Stolen Paradise
by HannahCake310
Summary: Jim struggled, valiantly. He tugged and pulled at first his wrists then his legs. His hands were tied behind his back and his ankles roped together out in front of him as he sat on a hard ground. With a grunt, Jim tried to spit something out at the man behind him but there was cloth covering his mouth bunching up at the sides of his lips and cutting into the delicate skin. Great.


Climbing out of unconsciousness was almost like trying swim back up to air after jumping into water. One could see the light of day, sense that air was close and that the end-game was near but still they have to push themselves to get to the surface. It is hard work at first, unseen forces pushing back enticing them to stay in the blackness, but they know you can't. They must wake up.

 _Wake up!_

As Jim pulled himself out of the abyss of darkness he could start to feel a pain in his stomach. He climbed and climbed until black gave way to the pink color of his eyelids. He moved his eyes behinds his lids feeling dizzy and sluggish. He groaned trying to figure out what happened.

He could remember walking back to his apartment from a conference with Pike and Spock about crew performance ratings and expense reports. It was really just a bullshit meeting to relax a bit after the more intense Admiralty debriefings. Between him and Spock their reports were immaculate. When it came to the _Enterprise_ there was nothing Jim Kirk wouldn't do. Even if that meant sitting at his desk all night filling reports, sending them off and having Spock send them right back the next morning because he forgot some small aspect that really, only a Vulcan would notice.

He'd been walking with coffee in one hand and PADD in the other when he'd been jumped. Something had been pushed against his neck and now here he was feeling sick and stupid.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're the prettiest hostage? Sorry I have to keep the gag in, by the way. I'm sure you understand." He heard when he forced his eyes to open. The voice was distinctly male and was so close to Jim's ear that he felt the man's breath ghost over his skin. Jim jerked away out of fright and tried to bring his hands up. When they didn't move he tugged harder feeling a sting on his wrists. Looking down he saw the reason and his heart sunk down to his stomach. Ropes. He was tied down.

Shit.

Spock was going to kill him for this.

Jim struggled, valiantly. He tugged and pulled at first his wrists then his legs. His hands were tied behind his back and his ankles roped together out in front of him as he sat on a hard ground. With a grunt Jim tried to spit something out at the man behind him but there was cloth covering his mouth bunching up at the sides of his lips and cutting into the delicate skin. Great. Just great. Waking up tied down and gagged while not the strangest thing he'd ever gone through was defiantly on the list of top five. He felt sick, his neck pulsed where he'd been injected with whatever had knocked him out. He really, _really_ hoped he wasn't allergic to it because no, he was not going to go out like that. Going into anaphylactic shock and dying after being injected with drugs his messed up system was allergic to was definitely _not_ how he was going to die.

"Don't worry, you won't be here long," the voice circled behind him. It was deep, had a hint of southern and made Jim shiver whether from fear or anticipation, he didn't know. His fingers wiggled trying to get a hold on the rope but nothing, he couldn't get a grip – they were tied too tightly.

"You are very pretty," the man whispered almost too softly for him hear but Jim did and anger rushed his veins. The guy fucking kidnapped him, was holding him hostage and he had the balls to call him _pretty_? If he took the gag off Jim had some choice words that even his mother would be proud of. As it was, the cloth inhibited any words so instead Jim settled for a garbled _fuck you_ and glared at the far off wall in front of him. The room was dark, the walls far away as if he were inside a warehouse. Jim didn't hear the sounds of the ocean or the rumble of hovercars so it couldn't be any place in downtown San Fran.

Jim heard the click of the man's boots as he came around to his front. When he got into view Jim's eyes widened. Brown hair swept to the side with stubble clearly unshaven for days. Bags sagged his eyes and tight lines made his face harsh where it would have been soft. He looked haggard with brown-green eyes murky with exhaustion. His clothes were a size too large but looked clearly worn. The guy looked exhausted coming to stand just out of Jim's kicking reach. He wrung his hands together and Jim could see a tattoo penned on one hand. It looked like skeletal bones tattooed down from wrist to fingers. Anatomically correct bones drawn on his skin. Strange but oddly fitting for the scruffy man.

Bones Man sat down after swaying back and forth on his feet and staring at any place other than Jim's scowling ice blue eyes. He crossed his legs. Jim felt himself getting sicker.

"You're a hard man to find, Captain."

He wished the guy would stop speaking. His voice was strangely soothing but it made the sickness in Jim's stomach lurch. His mouth filled with saliva soaking the cloth gag. Jim tried to calm himself, this wasn't the first shit show he'd been in and it wouldn't be his last. He needed to stay calm and figure something out. Long breath in through his nose and back out.

In… Out.

Bones Guy opened his mouth to say something else that Jim never heard. His body was thrust forward as he gagged. Bile burned up his throat. Bones sprang forward grabbing at the gag and tearing it off roughly scratching Jim's face with his nails. Not a second later Jim leaned to the side and retched up everything in his stomach. When he was done he just lay there breathing fast and erratic but feeling better.

"Why," he started not looking up. "Why are you doing this?" He could hear Bones' panicked breathing above him as he got closer. He clearly wasn't prepared for Jim and his jacked up system.

"They got the cure." Bones' voice wavered with either panic or fear or some misplaced sense that he was allowed to care for Jim's well-being. "If I give them you, they'll give me the cure for my daddy."

"Listen," Jim grunted wishing he could wipe his mouth but his hands here still tied. He pulled himself back into a sitting position. He stared at the man as Bones backed up a few steps. "I understand you need this cure but please, if you hand me over to whoever it is they'll kill me. You gotta know they'll kill me."

"You don't know that," Bones shot back.

"I have a lot of enemies and about a hundred percent of them want me dead."

"If I don't then he's gonna die."

"I'm sorry, I really am but please, just let me go." He didn't ask who wanted him. He'd been in enough situations to know that he didn't want to know. At least not at the moment. "I've got a crew that'll wonder where I am. I can't just leave them."

"I can't let my daddy die, Captain."

" _Jim_ ," Jim spat. "If you're sentencing me to death the least you can do is call me by my goddamn name."

Bones visibly sagged, years were added to the lines on his face and the tension in his shoulders. The man looked so very close to tears.

"I'm sorry."

Jim had nothing to say back. He looked away from the man feeling dried bile on his chin and dread in his heart.


End file.
